Les Incroyables
by Ellawritesficssometimes
Summary: FACE FAMILY SUPER HERO AU- ONE-SHOT!- Raising twin Supers has never proved to be easy for the Bonnefoy family. 'Harmless' pranks typically result in mass destruction, and as for family fights? They'd be lucky to see the roof standing by the end of it all.


**A/N:** This is very loosely based off "The Incredibles" I hope you like it :D

As always, thanks for reading~!

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 **Here's a line up of some of the one-shots that I plan to write in the future:**

-Another Super Hero AU, Gilbert/ Prussia as Deadpool.

-Soul Eater AU- Spain/ Antonio as a Soul Meister and Lovino/ Romano as his axe weapon.

-Cold War AU, Hitman Jones.

-GerIta in some kind of school/ carnival setting.

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 **Les Incroyables:**

In a world full of Supers, and despite being a Super himself, Arthur Kirkland was nothing short of an anomaly. By night, he was known as Mr. Impeccable, the grumpy hero with incredible speed and equally sharp wits to match. He was still nonetheless a lone wolf when it came to his work, however. Arthur worked with the police only for the purposes of intelligence gathering. Dealing with people wasn't quite his thing, you see.

And so, rather than being kept on a short leash, the police gave Arthur full discretion in his patrolling activities. He spent most of his time dealing with low-life muggers, gang members, and the occasional bank robber. He was very quick (joke horribly intended) and efficient at his job, which had earned him quite the good reputation in the eyes of the community. They all saw him as a hero of sorts, but due to his sour and pessimistic attitude, no one dared to thank him for it.

The Brit was an intimidating man with sharp green eyes, thick, bushy eyebrows, and a face that had a permanent scowl situated on it. In his early heroic years, wearing a mask was far from necessary. Supers were recognized, idolized, and placed at a high value in society. So long as they maintained peace, order, and justice, the public had no reason to complain.

Of course, Arthur wasn't the only Super lying around in the city. There were plenty of others too. And although most of them shared Arthur's preference to work alone, there were Supers who wished to fight crime as a unit.

Francis Bonnefoy was one of those Supers. Francis was a charismatic super diva who went under the alias of Mr. Incroyable. He had the super power of elasticity. His body could stretch and twist at angles that hardly anyone wanted to see, but because the Frenchman was a notorious show off, he flouted about the city like he owned it.

On one regrettably fateful night, Arthur had met Francis during a cold break and enter at City Hall. The police had called them both in to investigate, and without much of a choice, the two Supers were expected to work together. Arthur, who was having absolutely none of Francis's excessive chattiness, took off on his own, eventually catching the suspect two blocks away.

It goes to say that Francis and Arthur encountered each other many times after that incident. Arthur was absolutely revolted by Francis's crude mannerisms. In fact, he already couldn't stand the French to begin with, what with their overly complicated language and ridiculously buttered up food. Not to mention the fact that Francis incessantly made snide sexual remarks with each and every passing breath.

The charms of the extroverted Frenchman began to wear down on the stubborn Briton as the years went by, however. Suddenly, Francis's smug blue eyes became charming, and his obnoxious laughter didn't rub Arthur the wrong way anymore. Arthur soon found himself warming up to Francis. He had grown to look past the latter's insufferably cocky attitude, and in doing so, Arthur came to realize that Francis wasn't all that bad. The French was kind, and held the welfare of the city deep in his heart, a sentiment that Arthur couldn't help but respect.

The super duo eventually developed feelings for each other. It was only natural that after spending so much time together, they would learn to overcome their differences and begin to appreciate the similarities that they both shared. Being a Super wasn't always easy, and finding someone who could relate to the troubles of balancing normal life with the unpredictable dangers of fighting crime was a rare opportunity that Francis and Arthur didn't take for granted.

Rather than living a life of solitude and loneliness, as most Supers quite often did, Francis and Arthur embraced their solidarity and got married. Arthur had assumed Francis's surname, despite incessantly complaining, and therefore making his significant other's ear bleed from the soreness of the topic. That's just how marriage worked, unfortunately.

Besides, Arthur had virtually nothing to complain about. Life was great. Outside of fighting crime, Francis's extraordinary bending abilities proved to be quite useful in the bed. Ahem, moving on. Anyways, the duo couldn't have been any happier. They worked best when they were together.

It was this unison and sense of mutual strength, however, that had blinded them to the divisions that were being drawn in the wider society. The civilians' wrongful perception of rising crime rates had created the grounds for a moral panic. Without a face to place the blame on, a criminal would hardly make for good news. The media then turned their spotlight onto the next best thing: the Supers themselves.

Rather than focusing on the good things that the Supers did for society in whole, the media sensationalized the rare incidents that caused more damage and harm. Politicians, with the backing of intrusive legislation and public support, incited a purge on the Supers. Irrational fear of the unknown had swept over society like a foggy blanket of ignorance. Faced with the scrutiny of civic outcries and overall opposition to their very existence, the Supers recognized that they were no longer welcomed in the public eye.

Governments around the world took extreme measures to rub out the known existence of the Supers. Undercover programs were developed and new identities were given. It was expected that the Supers would blend in with the wider society and live their lives as ordinary law-abiding citizens. God forbid that they show off their differences and threaten the normative status quo.

Despite holding resentful attitudes towards the politicians who facilitated this all-out crusade on Supers, Arthur and Francis were more than happy to enlist themselves in the Civilian Relocation Program. Living in hiding protected them from the discrimination and overbearing stigma that all outed Supers faced. It was safer and much easier to hide from public scrutiny rather than fight against it.

No matter, Francis and Arthur were determined to make the most out of this precarious situation. Perhaps now they could finally start a family. They no longer had to worry about the risks involved with crime fighting. And it was just three months after they had assumed their new identities that their social worker, an eccentric Hungarian woman and ex-Super herself, contacted them about two twin Supers who were in desperate need of a home.

Supers cared for their own, and it was imperative that children who showed such extraordinary abilities grew up in an environment where they could learn how to properly control their powers. Living in a mundane household was certainly not an option for these twins, regardless if the Bonneyfoys decided to take them in or not.

Francis had leapt at the chance to adopt the boys. Arthur was skeptical at first, but all it took was one glance to melt away his stubbornness over the matter. The twins were both respectively adorable. They had bright blond hair, blue eyes, and rosy, plump cheeks. If Arthur and Francis thought that they loved each other before, then the introduction of two new sons in their lives certainly strengthened that sentiment.

Despite their similar appearances, the boys were polar opposites on the temperament spectrum. Matthew was timid, reserved, and preferred to keep to himself. Alfred, on the other hand, was boisterous, loud, and stubborn as a mule.

It goes to say that raising the twins was a mission in itself. Arthur had taken up a dreadfully boring job as an editor at the town's local newspaper, whereas Francis stayed home to take care of the little rascals. Every day Arthur came home to the sound of screaming. It became clear that Francis's role as a stay at home Papa was not a one-person job.

The journey of parenthood was never an easy one. Alfred had super strength, which meant that his temper tantrums typically resulted in the destruction of the entire neighborhood. It was a good thing that the government stepped up to pay for the damages that that lovable brat caused.

Matthew was much easier to deal with, although, he did cause his fair share of fights and panics in the Bonnefoy household. Matthew's path of destruction was far subtler. For one thing, he had the power of invisibility, which had led to many existential crises on Francis's part and several almost heart attacks on Arthur's. Nevertheless, once discovering his powers, Matthew had a troublesome tendency to passive aggressively provoke Alfred into lashing out.

It had taken the boys twelve full years to gain control over their powers. Alfred occasionally tore off the car door, and Matthew sometimes disappeared in public places, but for the most part, they were showing significant promise when it came to disciplining themselves.

In the public eye, the Bonnefoys were just your typical suburban family, minus the continual chaos and odd rebellion on Alfred's delinquent behalf. Raising the twins had been difficult for Arthur and Francis, but getting to watch them grow up into the mischievous, bright-minded little devils that they were now had made all their efforts worth it in the end.

Of course, this doesn't go to say that Matthew and Alfred behaved properly outside of the home. In fact, school administrators often referred to the twin super duo as double trouble. Namely it was Alfred who caused most of the trouble and Matthew who got swept up his brother's coercive shenanigans. Not a day went by where the boys weren't sent down to the office. They even had their own seats, naturally.

It just so happened that one day, during an allegedly boring music lesson, Alfred had taken things much too far.

…

Alfred couldn't be bothered to listen to Mr. Edelstein's uptight, stick-in-the-butt ramblings. The boy was twitching in his seat, never keeping his gaze focused on an object for longer than a few seconds. Music class was the time of day he dreaded most. It didn't help that lunch came right afterwards, so it only made sense that Alfred would feel far more agitated than usual. He couldn't wait to dig into the gourmet lunch that his Papa had prepared for him.

Alfred looked to his right, scoffing to himself as he watched his brother diligently jot down notes in his selectively organized music binder. Alfred's binder, on the other hand, was a categorical mess of crumpled and messily shoved in papers from subjects of all sorts.

The class continued to drone on at a sluggish pace. Alfred's patience waned, and it wasn't long before a troublesome thought came to mind. An impish grin played onto his face as he reached over to tap Matthew on the shoulder.

"Dude!" Alfred whispered in a low voice. "I'm bored," he whined, hoping that his brother would sympathize with him and reciprocate his misery.

Matthew rolled his eyes, deliberately ignoring his twin's attempts to gain his attention.

Alfred scooted his desk closer, and when that didn't work, he started flinging pencils and erasers at Matthew. Alfred was unable to stifle his giggles as he watched object after object bounce off his indifferent brother's forehead. It was a miracle that Mr. Edelstein hadn't caught them at this point.

Matthew, who had long been desensitized to his brother's irksome tendencies, simply drew up the hood of his baggy red sweater. A growing pile of paper balls lay at the foot of Matthew's desk.

"Mattie!" Alfred called out again, raising his voice so that it was impossible for his brother not to hear him. He wouldn't be ignored, damnit!

Matthew turned to face Alfred, his sharp blue eyes glaring daggers at the shit-disturbing grin on the latter's face. "What?" he snapped.

Alfred smirked. "Wanna prank Mr. Edelstein with me?"

Matthew vehemently shook his head. He had always been a stickler when it came to following the rules. Well, at least until Alfred had had his say in the matter.

"We promised Papa that we wouldn't get into anymore trouble this week."

"If we're careful enough, we don't have to get into trouble," Alfred countered.

Mr. Edelstein paused his lecture to glare at the two boys. Both twins straightened their spines and gave the teacher quirky and suspiciously guilty-looking grins. Surprisingly, this faulty performance was enough to sway the tight-lipped Austrian.

Alfred elbowed Matthew again when the coast was clear. "Come on. You know you want to," he mused, his eyes twinkling with the very same mischief that _always_ got them into trouble.

"Do what you want Al, just don't expect to get me involved," Matthew huffed, daftly turning his attention back to the class at hand.

Alfred pursed his lips. He still had one last trick up his sleeve, and he certainly wasn't ashamed to use it. "Remember how I covered for you last night?" he asked.

Matthew bit his lip, woefully turning to face his brother again. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Alfred mockingly brought a hand to his chest in surprise. "Really? That's funny! Because I distinctly remember you making the brussel sprouts on your dinner plate disappear!"

Matthew snorted. "And I thought that you were above blackmail!"

"Well you thought wrong little bro!"

Matthew crossed his arms, glaring at nothing but mere air. You could practically see the steam wafting out of his now reddening ears.

Alfred's facial expression brightened considerably. It wouldn't be long now before his brother relented.

A minute passed before Matthew cleared his throat. "I can't _believe_ that I'm about to do this…!" he fumed.

Alfred fist pumped the air, only to pretend to reach behind and scratch his ear when he was met with Mr. Edelstein's sharp gaze.

The twins then huddled together to discuss the finer details of their prank. As usual, Alfred did most of the talking, while Matthew was forced to take up the role of the grudging subordinate.

What was having a voice to Matthew anyways?

It was inevitable that his opinion would be drowned out in the wake of Alfred's supremely large ego.

…

Half way through the class, Mr. Edelstein had finally gotten to the music part of the lesson. The class was now situated in the school's music room, where the sound of off-key instrument playing bounced off the acoustic panels of the surrounding walls.

Alfred puffed out his cheeks, stubbornly waiting for his turn to crash the cymbals together for a solo that lasted all but five seconds. Any longer and everyone's ear drums would have popped indefinitely.

Once the piece was finished, Alfred nodded at Matthew, who furrowed his brows together in concentration, mentally extending the invisible hand of the force field that he was secretly conjuring.

Alfred smiled discretely to himself once he had spotted the slight distortion in the air where Matthew's force field was located. Only those with many years of experience would have been able to point it out.

Their oblivious and obviously bored classmates, as told by the miserable expressions on their faces, sat in a dreaded silence as they listened to Mr. Edelstein sharply criticize them for their allegedly rusty music performance.

The Austrian stood behind a pedestal at the front of the classroom, using a wooden meter stick to point out the students who had made the worse mistakes.

"Mr. Vargas! What did I say about eating in the classroom?!" Mr. Edelstein fumed, directing his meter stick to point at an auburn-haired boy with fiery hazel eyes. "Not to mention the fact that you got a total of five notes wrong!"

The boy in question, whose name was Lovino, simply rolled his eyes and set his flute down on the music stand before him. "Tough shit," he cussed, raising his hand to take another bite out of the tomato that he had illegally trafficked into the classroom. "It's not my fault that your classes are boring as hell."

Mr. Edelstein opened his mouth in retort. Thankfully, Lovino's twin brother, Feliciano, jumped in to save the day. "He didn't mean it Mr. Edelstein!" he apologized in his usual sing-song voice. "Fratello gets really grumpy when he's hungry! Isn't that right now, Lovi?"

Lovino licked the remaining tomato juice from his fingers. "Yeah, what the fuck ever," he grumbled.

Mr. Edelstein's face reddened with anger, but he knew better than to pick a fight with Lovino. The boy's temper tantrums had destroyed many instruments in the past, and the music program's budget was already tight as it was.

Instead, the infuriated teacher decided to move on to his next biggest target. Alfred soon found himself facing the blunt end of Mr. Edelstein's meter stick. "And you! How many times must I tell you to clap your cymbals a total of four times?!"

Alfred pouted. "But seven times sounds _so_ much better."

Matthew cleared his throat, subtly cueing to Alfred that it was time to put their plan into motion.

Mr. Edelstein's hand twitched. It was a well-known fact to students that if permitted, the teacher wouldn't have hesitated to whack the insolence out of them.

"Don't you get crass with me, young man!" the teacher spat. "Keep it up with that attitude, and I'll send you straight to the office!"

Alfred raised his hands in surrender. "Ya' got me. I won't do it again. Promise!" The boy then lifted a pinkie finger to the air. "Delinquent's honor," he winked for good measure.

A sly grin crept onto Matthew's face as he clenched his right hand into a fist. The end of the meter stick moved on its own volition. The movement was subtle enough that only Mr. Edelstein, Alfred, and Matthew were aware of this phenomenon.

Mr. Edelstein's face paled and he swallowed. "Yes, well, alright. Let's get back to the lesson then, shall we?"

Matthew was far too amused to let Mr. Edelstein off the hook so easily.

The meter stick was violently jerked out of the teacher's hand. It tumbled to the floor with the weight and speed of a freight train.

"W-what in Gott's name is going on?" Mr. Edelstein muttered in disarray.

The class snickered at their teacher's uncharacteristic display of clumsiness.

Matthew chuckled lightly to himself as he lifted the meter stick high into the air, letting it dangle above the now horrified teacher's head. The class grew deadly silent, shocked, but also transfixed by the defiance of gravity occurring right before their ogling eyes. Their music lesson was far from boring now.

"The fuck?!" Lovino spluttered.

Mr. Edelstein made a move for the meter stick, but his hands grabbed at nothing but thin air. "Is this some sort of prank?!" he roared.

"Bonnefoy! This is your doing, isn't it?!"

Alfred, whose hands were still conveniently raised into a surrendering stance, merely shrugged in response. "Hey! Don't look at me! I have absolutely no part in this!" The devilish grin on his face said otherwise.

Lovino reached into his lunchbox and pulled out another ripe tomato. Without any reason or justification, he wound his arm back and flung the fruit at the hovering meter stick.

Matthew pursed his lips and readied the meter stick into a batting stance.

 **SQUISH!**

The tomato exploded upon impact with the meter stick. Several students were splattered with the fruit's juicy entrails. Lovino simply grinned and revelled in the horrified and disgruntled looks that his classmates aimed at him.

Lovino then bent over to whisper to his twin in secret. "Looks like we aren't the only Supers in the room," he snickered.

Alfred stood up from his seat and raised a determined fist to the air. "First person to knock down the meter stick down wins!" he exclaimed.

War was soon declared on the felonious meter stick. All Mr. Edelstein could do was stand and watch in horror as his formerly pristine music classroom was subsequently destroyed. Pens, pencils, erasers, tomatoes and similar artillery alike were thrown at the suspended meter stick that had an irritating knack for dodging every attack that was laid against it.

When that didn't work, the students resorted to more drastic measures. Correction, Alfred resorted to more drastic measures.

Matthew paled as he watched his twin pick up a nearby projector as if it was child's play. "Al, don't!" he cried out in vain. His words fell on deaf ears, unfortunately. His twin was far too swept up in the moment to heed him any attention. Not that Alfred had the sense to listen to him anyways.

Several students screamed out in confusion when Alfred tossed the projector over his head. Lifting the projector was a feat in and of itself, but to hurl it so high up into the air was mind boggling for those who were unaware of his powers. It was a pity that Alfred's strength didn't necessarily equate to good aim.

 **BANG!**

The projector collided with the ceiling tiles, causing pieces of cement, glass, and vinyl panelling to come crashing down to the ground, all of which landed directly on top of Mr. Edelstein's brand new piano…

Uh-oh.

"ALFRED! MATTHEW!" Mr. Edelstein screeched like the very devil himself. "OFFICE! NOW!"

"Why me?! What I do?!" Matthew protested, blushing self-consciously when the entire class erupted with laughter.

"YOU BONNEFOY BOYS ARE ALWAYS UP TO SOMETHING! I REFUSE TO BE TAKEN FOR A FOOL!"

The teacher's spittle flung in all directions. Only Lovino and Feliciano were smart enough to use their binders to shield themselves from this downpour.

"B-but!"

Alfred placed a hand on Matthew's shoulders. "The jig is up, Mattie. There's no point fighting it."

Leave it to Alfred to have a kumbaya, passive-submissive moment at literally the worst moment possible.

Matthew's shoulder slumped. A dark expression crossed over his face. "You are _so_ dead when we get home, you hear me?!" he huffed.

Alfred whistled and nonchalantly stuck his hands into the front pockets of his bomber's jacket. "You'll have to fight with Dad on that one. When he gets back from work tonight…boy it ain't going to be pretty…"

The twins silently embarked on their trek to the front office. The fear of two angry Super parents was enough to tie both their stomachs and tongues into virtually undoable knots.

…

Francis was on the verge of having yet another mental breakdown. Those sons of his would truly be the death of his gorgeous, wrinkle-free face. Alfred and Matthew had gotten into trouble at school, which of course wasn't that much of a surprise to Francis. In fact, he had grown so accustomed to this daily pattern that every lunch was spent sitting by the phone.

It goes to say that Francis's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when the principal had called to inform him of the costs associated with repairing the school's music room, not to mention the therapy lessons for Alfred and Matthew's teacher, who was now on psychiatric leave. On top of that, the boys had been suspended for a week with the possibility of expulsion if they didn't clean up their act.

Francis didn't say much to the boys both during and after their meeting with the principal. His disapproving glares were enough to placate the two rascals into a perpetually ashamed silence. Besides, it was usually Arthur who did most of the lecturing.

Francis had far too big of a heart to raise his voice at two of the three things that he loved most in the world. The third thing is wine, if you were wondering. Francis didn't love Arthur, but rather he put up with him. That was another joke as well. It was all that the Frenchman could do to help settle his nerves.

Their family's Super Social Worker was at her wit's end. Elizabeta was perpetually drowning in paper work due to the physical and mental damage that Matthew and Alfred routinely caused. Thankfully, it wasn't Arthur and Francis who had to pay for the blunt of their son's mistakes.

Although, if something wasn't done soon, they would be on their own. The government was becoming increasingly frustrated with the Bonnefoy family's reckless behaviour. An average fund of $60,000 was required to compensate for their weekly path of destruction. The boys were growing older, and with age, it was expected that they would learn how to properly behave themselves. Francis highly doubted that this would happen, but he was still nonetheless forced to make an abundance of empty promises that he knew he would never be able to keep.

Another worrisome thought was what Arthur would do when he got home. The Brit was sure to be furious, and so, to distract himself from the dread of his partner's inevitably explosive temperament, Francis did what he did best. He cooked.

The boys looked absolutely miserable. Matthew refused to speak to Alfred, and Alfred refused to speak at all, which was quite troubling for Francis. The silence in their home was eerie, like the calm before a hectic storm. Francis thought it best to ease everyone's tempers by cooking up some of their favourite dishes.

It was a good thing that Francis had informed Arthur of the boy's suspension beforehand. At least that way the Briton would have more time to sort through his anger. What's more, Francis had also made shepherd's pie for dinner. That was sure to soothe Arthur's volatile temper. For Matthew, Francis had whipped him up a batch of pancakes, but only to be eaten as dessert of course. And for Alfred, who stubbornly wouldn't eat anything else otherwise, Francis had plated together a dress-it-yourself burger bar. Proud as he was to be a Papa, Francis had a horrible habit of spoiling his children rotten.

Matthew and Alfred had already seated themselves, shockingly next to each other, by the time that Francis started to bring the various platters of food to the table. It was a great relief to know that he had at least raised them into exercising proper table manners. The plates and cutlery were all set. Now all they had to do was wait for Arthur.

Speaking of the Briton, the front door opened only to slam shut quite violently. Francis winced and got up to greet his partner. He helped Arthur take off his suit jacket, briefly pecked him on the cheek, and gave his partner one last look of warning before they made their way over to the dining room table. Francis knew better than to speak to Arthur when he was in one of his 'moods'. It was best to stay clear and let the waves settle a little before he began to anchor on their children's behalf.

Alfred gulped and averted his gaze to the empty dinner plate resting before him. Matthew too demonstrated his nervousness by sheepishly flickering in and out of view. Arthur gave a little grunt of approval when he spotted the casserole dish of shepherd's pie that Francis had baked for dinner.

Awkward glances were exchanged as the family members piled food onto their dinner plates. Francis took several gulps of wine to help cope with the unruly silence.

The silence ended when Arthur cleared his throat, causing the remaining three blond heads of hair to look up in response. "Alfred, Matthew. There's something that your Papa and I would like to discuss with you."

"But Dad!" Alfred whined, his words muffled by a mouthful of chewed up burger. "The principal already gave us a lecture!"

Matthew violently kicked Alfred in the shin, causing the latter to choke a little. "Just shut up before you get us into even more trouble!" Matthew hissed.

"Oh! So now he decides to speak to me!" Alfred deadpanned.

"That's quite enough!" Arthur snapped. "Alfred, chew with your mouth closed, and don't you dare open it again unless you need to breathe for air! And Matthew! Provoke your brother again and I'll have no choice but to place a limit on your maple syrup usage!"

Matthew's eyes welled up with fresh tears, while Alfred angrily continued to wolf down his burger.

Francis placed a hand over the fuming Briton's forearm. "There's no need to be so harsh on them, Arthur. I'm sure that they didn't mean to destroy the school's music room. Isn't that right now, boys?"

Alfred aggressively nodded his head.

Matthew whispered a weak "Oui Papa" in response.

"What do you expect me to do, Francis?" Arthur groaned. "We can't keep living like this! We're one mistake away from having our identities compromised!"

"Nuh-uh!" Alfred protested. "Can't the government do that mind erasing thing-a-ma-bob?"

"That's besides the point!" Arthur roared. "You boys need to learn how to control your powers more responsibly! Unlike your Papa, I'm not going to coddle you. You're both grounded for a month. No TV, no video games, and don't you even think about using the internet."

"B-but!" The two twins spluttered in mutually horrified harmony.

"I don't want to hear it!" Arthur paused to gesture at his husband. "Francis, dear, can you pass me the butter?"

Francis sighed and did what Arthur asked him to.

"Papa! Don't just sit there!" Alfred wailed. "Do something!"

Francis conveniently chose this moment to take another sip of wine. He knew when to pick his battles, and this fight certainly wasn't one of them.

"Yeah!" Matthew protested in the odd moment where he vocalized his anger. "It's not my fault that I was blackmailed into being Alfred's slave!"

"Slave my ass! You enjoyed that prank just as much as I did!"

"LANGUAGE!" Arthur cut in, albeit being completely ignored.

"Did not!"

"Did too!

The fight ended when Francis, with an unamused expression on his face, extended both arms across the dining room table. The arms elongated and stretched until they were long enough to grab onto the boy's chairs, physically pushing them apart.

Alfred only shut up when Francis's hand wrapped several times around his ketchup-stained mouth. Matthew chuckled to himself, only to stop when Arthur aimed a sharp glare in his direction.

Dinner continued in peaceful, irritated silence for all but ten minutes before the chaos started up again.

Matthew glared at his brother from the corner of his eye. The egotistical fatass was working on eating his third burger. A wry grin crept onto Matthew's face as he willed his mind to procure a small force field around his twin's dinner plate.

Alfred made a grab for his burger, furrowing his brows in confusion when his hand made contact with the hardened air of one of Matthew's force fields. Not wanting to arouse any suspicion from his parents, he sent Matthew a glowering glare. When that didn't work, Alfred grabbed a fork and began to jab at the force field like a madman. Unfortunately, Arthur and Francis hadn't clued in to this occurrence quite yet.

Matthew smirked as he hardened the force field.

 **CLUNK!**

Alfred's fork ricocheted off the force field, embedding itself in a nearby wall.

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS GOING ON NOW?!"

Arthur slammed down his cutlery, causing splashes of minced meat and mashed potato to fly across the dining room table. All he wanted was to have _one_ normal family dinner. One! Was that too much to ask for?!

"MATTHEW PUT A FORCEFIELD AROUND MY DINNER PLATE!"

Francis facepalmed. "Matthieu, I thought we've been over this. Passive aggressive retaliation never works."

Matthew's cheeks stretched into a shit-eating grin. "Really? Because Alfred pissing himself over a burger works out quite nicely for me!" he trilled.

"OH! YOU'RE REALLY ASKING FOR IT NOW!" Alfred slammed a fist against the dining room table.

"Nope! That's just your massive ego taking over again. Tsk! You should really get a handle on that," Matthew tutted, and oh so patronizingly. "Now back off, your nasty burger breath is polluting my asshole-free airspace."

Neither Francis's arms nor Arthur's agility were quick enough to stop Alfred from tackling Matthew to the ground.

"Get your hands off me, you b-buffoon!" Matthew choked.

"ONLY IF YOU TAKE BACK WHAT YOU SAID!" Alfred roared.

"N-not a chance in hell!"

…

"ALFRED FOSTER BONNEFOY! DON'T YOU DARE THROW YOUR BROTHER THROUGH THAT WINDOW!"

"FINE!"

 **CRASH!**

"WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!"

"YOU SAID NOT TO THROW MATTHEW THROUGH THE WINDOW. YOU NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT THE COUCH!"

…

"MATTHIEU! WHERE DID YOU DISSAPEAR OFF TO NOW?"

"OOMPH!" Alfred's head jutted backwards from the blow of a cheap sucker punch to the jaw.

"Found him…" the Frenchman trailed off weakly.

…

After a full forty-five minutes of yelling, swearing, and furniture/ brother throwing, Francis and Arthur had finally managed to gain control over the situation. The threat of taking away dessert for the whole month worked quite well to distil Alfred and Matthew's mutiny. Food in this family was a valuable currency that no one ever bothered to mess with, unless it was Arthur's food because that shit was just nasty.

A breeze of cool evening air wafted into the dining room via the now broken living room window. Arthur sighed. Peace at last. Both Alfred and Matthew were strapped to their chairs by the ropes of Francis's arms. The Briton could finally have the normal dinner he longed for.

The dining room chandelier flickered for a brief moment before the metal chain holding it up to the ceiling snapped.

The chandelier came crashing down onto the living room table, and with that, Arthur's dreams of having some normalcy in his life were crushed along with it.

Sadly, this was just your typical day in the Bonnefoy household.


End file.
